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support crew

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  • Running poles making ascents and descents easier
  • GPS to making navigation a doddle
  • Compression kit to reduce muscle fatigue

What do all these things have in common? These are all aids many of us use to help complete long distance endurance events.

I use running poles when allowed, I almost always use a GPS device even if a map isn’t loaded on to it and before I realised compression kit was causing all sorts of injury problems I would often be found in ridiculously tight fitting attire.

There are two aid types though that I wonder about, the first I don’t use, the second I do (when I can convince the GingaNinja to rock up to a race registration).

Pacers and Crews: The aid I don’t use that I’m referring to are pacers and it was after seeing some amazing finishes at hundred milers and the like that got me wondering if using a pacer increases the likelihood of a finish and whether by using them are runners on a level playing field?

The other aid are crews – which I do, on occasion, use and I believe that in the early days of my ultra marathoning I really wouldn’t have gotten very far without a crew and the support they offer. But do they give me and others who use them an edge on race day?

Reading lots of recent race reports and talking to runners it’s clear that there is an appetite for the use of both pacers and crews but does it take away something of the challenge? Increasingly my view is becoming that yes, these things are taking away from something that, at its best, in my opinion, is a solo sport.

Perhaps if they’re going to be in play there should be greater scrutiny about how a crew and pacers can be used as I’ve witnessed some things during recent races that has made me wonder if too much crew access and too much pacing is creating an unfortunate imbalance in ultra marathons.

I met a Spanish runner at about 30 miles into an unsupported race recently and we ran together for maybe 12 miles. I enjoyed his company very much but the curious thing was that his crew met him at five different points along the route during the time we were together. Each time he would stop, chat, change kit, have a nibble, check his route, have a sit in the warm vehicle etc. It felt like the spirit of the race was not being adhered to and there were others too during this particular event that had cars literally following them down the roads – with family members joining in for a few miles as pacers – picking up food at McDonalds, etc. I’ve met people who’ve run past their homes or near enough to detour and been witness to them going indoors, changing wet or filthy kit, filling up food and then simply popping back on the route – all I should point out, within the rules of the race. I don’t begrudge this level of support – hell, if I could get it my DNF percentage wouldn’t be so high! However, though I’m far from a purist in running terms I do feel this takes some of the shine off the effort required.

The pacer question is very much a personal choice and are often subject to specific race rules but for me these are an aid that detract from one of the most important aspects of a race – the mental challenge. I could pluck an arbitrary percentage out of the air but I’d suggest that most endurance races are won and lost in the mind and not in the body. The pacer therefore can have a real, tangible effect on a racers performance and we are back to the point about imbalance.

All this said though I’ve been known to buddy up with runners on a route in order to ensure a finish although always with the agreement that if the pacing didn’t match we’d say goodbye and good journey. That changed a little bit when on the South Wales 50 when myself and two other runners joined up on the course then formalised our pacing/team running strategy to ensure that we all finished. It was perhaps this more than anything that got me wondering about just how much of a difference a pacer can make. Now to be fair Ryan, Pete and myself were all pretty ruined by the time we’d hooked up and it was as much about surviving the night as it was pacing but it gave me an insight to what a fresh pair of legs or a fresh attitude can do for a very tired ultra runner.

These days I’m much more a social ultra runner rather than a competitive one and I tend not to think too much about my position in the field, preferring to concentrate on taking in my surroundings and having a lovely time. However, this has got me wondering just how much better I might be if I had a team right next to me pushing me forward?

The purity argument: The reason I suppose I don’t do that and put together a team to get me through these things is simply because of my belief in the solo element. I probably would be a better runner if there was someone in my ear for the final 50 miles pushing me that little bit harder or if I had a crew with lots of kit ready and waiting. However, for me ultra running is being out there, facing myself and a trail and although I can very much respect other people’s decisions for using pacers and crews it’s less and less suited to me. Perhaps evidence of this was that the last time the GingaNinja crewed for me was the Thames Path 100 in 2015 – here she met me several times armed with chocolate milk, kit options and a regular stern talking to but since then she’s mainly been at starts and finishes if there at all and in truth I prefer this. Although it’s scary to think you’re on your own it really does heighten the elation (for me) upon completion.

All this said I’ll still be using poles (periodically) and GPS – I’m not giving those up anytime soon, I mean I’m not completely stupid! Therefore am I a hypocrite for suggesting pacers and crews detract from a level race but I’m perfectly content to gain an edge by using kit that some call ‘cheat sticks’ or by buddying up inside an event? I suppose it’s an individuals view and more importantly a race directors view and if you (or perhaps I) don’t like it well then I don’t have to sign up to that race.

And so… I’m curious about your views on pacers and crews, do you feel they offer you a better chance of finishing well? Do you think they give some runners an advantage that others don’t have? Would you consider them a hindrance? Or are they simply part of your ultra running armoury?

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As I was stretching my calves yesterday within minutes of arriving home I realised for the first time in the near 5 years I’ve been running just how much time my favourite distraction takes up in my day.

And I began to wonder ‘is this normal?’

I started to look for research but most of it centres around what runners think about when they’re running. I’m interested in knowing if it’s healthy that I spend most of my day salivating at the prospect of running and looking through run related things.

My Daily Breakdown Let’s assume I get up around 5.30am and conclude my day around midnight – that’s a minimum of 18.5hrs per day to put running into.

So I wake up, showered, cup of tea, perhaps a yoghurt for breakfast and straight into my running kit. Place last few items of stuff into OMM 25 classic running bag. Spend at least a few minutes deciding which running shoes will cause me the least amount of aches on my RunCommute. I then begin the stretching that I need to do to make sure my glutes and calves don’t start firing the moment I leave the house and then at exactly 6.29am I leave the house for a couple of miles of running to the train station.

I usually arrive with seconds to spare, grab my seat and immediately reach for my phone to begin writing running blog posts, reading running blog posts or tweeting about running. That journey is about an hour and I usually get something out in the time, my only challenge being WordPress refusing to upload my photographs and a loss of signal as I enter Charing Cross.

As I leave Charing Cross I usually hit the afterburner and allow myself around 20-30 minutes of running through the backstreets of London, grabbing a snap or three of interesting buildings, sculptures or installations. Post run/pre work shower later I’m then usually hitting Instagram, replying to blog responses, etc – by 9am I’ve already done a reasonable amount of run related activities.

I’m lucky in my working life that my boss is also a runner and an extreme triathlete, this means much of the conversation during the day is about races, running, cycling and the Barkley. We supply each other with links to things such as stupid distance runs and ridiculously difficult OW swims.

If I ever got a lunch break then I’d be unlikely to run during it but I would (and on rare occasions do) go walking for an hour, this I feel helps keep my legs active despite having a sedentary desk job. However, when 5.30pm arrives I do my best to get out, get changed and hit the pavement – time and distance vary depending on running needs but I can be out for anything from 30 minutes to about 4 hours.

Once I arrive at a commuter train in the evening my time is usually spent doing one of a few things a) as tonight, blogging b) looking up races c) looking up kit d) looking up reviews for races or kit.

I might, if the fancy takes me, go for a bit more running (sometimes swimming) once I’m home but if not then it’s straight into foam rolling, stretching and preparing my running kit for the following day and so the cycle sets in again.

By the end of the day, if I’ve got either any energy or time left I’ll sometimes process race and running photographs for some slightly more creative, run related, projects I’ve been been working on but it amazes me how much of each and every day is spent revolving it’s way around my running endeavours.

It should be tiresome and dull, there shouldn’t be that much to blog about, there shouldn’t be that many races to look up or routes to run – but there is.

Do other aspects of my life suffer?
This I suppose is the real reason to ask the question. As a runner with a young family and a full time job both of these have been known to play second fiddle to my love of sport. However, I’ve never neglected either in favour of running, I think I’ve developed the art of multitasking and time management. I’ve let less important things slide in my life, things like peripheral friendships, days of hardcore nightclubbing, alcohol and working all the hours because these things were not improving either my life or aiding in the fulfilment of my running dreams. Obviously nothing’s perfect and sometimes I do misjudge the balance but I’ve come to understand how my own life works and I’m a better person for it.

Does running influence decision making?
Without a doubt running and the dominance of it in my life has a serious impact on decisions. The GingaNinja made certain choices about her new job because I wanted to ensure enough weekends were left free for me to be able to commit to racing. Running has been known to dictate holiday destinations, food choices and many other things. However, to me this doesn’t feel like a sacrifice, this feels like making the work/life balance right for me and the people around me.

However, I remember discovering the GingaNinja was pregnant. She told me from the shower cubicle and saying ‘Have you entered the CCC (2014)? Because you might want to rethink it as we’re probably having a baby that week’ – that’s the only time I’ve cancelled an entry and credit to the GingaNinja she provided a bloody good reason.

So does running dominate my life?
Yes probably,  however, I’m happy about the impact it has and I’ve developed it in such a way that it doesn’t negatively impact everything else, in my opinion it improves the rest of my life – but then I would say that. The benefits of life that is dominated by running are too numerous to list but my physical and mental wellbeing are infinitely better for it.

How about your running life? Do you spend most of your day in run related thoughts and activities?

  I remember as I lay on the pavement just after the car hit me thinking that ‘The Green Man Ultra might be a DNS’ but roll back towards the middle of February and I was thinking ‘The Green Man Ultra is probably going to be a DNS because of this horrid chest infection’. To complete the tale of woe UltraBaby decided she would choose the night before the race to stay awake all night and keep both the GingaNinja and I up.

So rather miserably on Saturday 5th March at about 5.30am I got up and got ready for The Green Man Ultra. To say I wasn’t ready is an understatement.  

I rocked up with rather grumpy GingerNinja and even grumpier UltraBaby to the awesome starting facilities at Ashton Gate – not far from where the Parkrun kicks off from.

Then came the first positive of the day, as I was collecting my number a familiar, yet new face came beaming towards me – @knocker73 – awesome. After a number of near misses over the years we finally got to meet and what an awesome, humble and tremendous young chap he is. The start line was filled with lots of familiar faces, many of them from Twitter and I managed to say hola to lots of them – especially once I’d found the ever brilliant Roz Glover. But there were also those I missed like @razzledazzlemark (another day buddy).

 
It was a cold and crisp morning but it was also bright and there had that hint of moisture in the air – lots of the runners had chosen to go out in waterproofs but as is normal for me I chose my standard combo of Ronhill and lovely Eco Green top from the Snowdonia Marathon. I’d chosen my Ronhill shorts too but this was a practical issue as the pockets on the outside would allow me to safely stow my GoPro and run without fear of loss. Having checked conditions with some of the local runners it was suggested that it was going to be a mud bath – I looked down at my Altra Lone Peak 2.0 and I feared for my safety.

 
Regardless of kit issues the briefing was over and we were off. I started, as has become my custom, at the back of the field and gently wandered through the field picking up my pace to stay just behind Ira Rainey (the 10hr timekeeper) – I figured if my body was okay I’d probably run something like about 9hrs and I’d push on past him once I’d figured the route out.

Conditions though were muddy and the hundreds of runners going through prior to me had cut it up nicely so it was as much mud sliding as it was running and each of the ‘hundreds’ of stiles meant that by the time you’d gotten into your stride there was another gate to clamber over or get through. However, after the first few steady ascents and descents I had relaxed into the race and found myself warming to the possibility of running a decent time. The trouble was that I could feel the niggle of the previous weeks car crash and by mile 3 it was a raging burning sensation through my groin, my right leg and lower back.   

The pain was preventing me eating much as well and so at about mile 5, as I ran into a lovely gentleman called James, I started to chow down on food and drink to see if that would get my mind off the more problematic things. It worked while I was eating but nothing more.

The good news though was that Bristol and North Somerset are replete with beautiful scenery and as I looked up I could see nothing but fantastic views of our fantastic countryside. This was why I was here today.

Pulling in to CP1 I stopped for 2 or 3 minutes, watched Ira Rainey leave the checkpoint with his band of merry runners and then quickly followed. By now I realised I was slowing so my aims had to change and so I focused on staying ahead of the 11 hour pacer.

Through gritted teeth now I ran harder between CP1 and 2 than I had the first section but I was slower, my effort wasn’t being rewarded with results but pushing on I stayed ahead of the pacer. Here though it turned sweet and sour, firstly I could see Roz in the distance and so I put a spurt on to see if I could make CP2 before she did and then I came across ‘real mud’. I’d seen the previous pair of runners clamber across on a metal fence like a pair of monkeys but I felt with the right combination of pace and effort it was runnable.

How wrong can you be? My Clarkson-esque ‘more power’ gave rise to a defining moment in the race.

 
Slop! Slop! Fart! Fart! My feet became stuck but my body continued its progress forward and I was sent straight into the muddy abyss. Thankfully my Lone Peaks stayed on my feet and the dirty girl gaiters kept me locked in but I was covered from head to toe in crap. I wiped myself clean with all the buffs I had and then used what areas of my clothes that remained clean to wipe the rest off me. I climbed over to the fence and fought my way through the bog.

I don’t know if Roz was laughing at me, but if she was I hope she enjoyed it because had I seen me do that – well let’s say I’d have been amused. We ran together for the next 20 minutes too which was lovely as I often only see her at race starts and finishes or as she’s going past me. But Roz as ever looked every inch the legend she is and powered on to CP2 a little ahead of me. By the way, as an aside if Roz ever mentions ‘Dickslam’ or ‘Cockslam’ rest assured she’s talking about races and not knackering your knacker projectile launcher.

I pulled into CP2 – ate delicious jam sandwiches (no crust) and then promptly left heading straight to CP3. Alone now I was contemplating the DNF or my preferred RTC (refuse to continue), I was in agony but I faced the mental demons and reminded myself I was here to collect a medal and so I pushed on.

About 6 miles in to CP3 the 11 hour pacer finally caught me and so I used this as an opportunity to find my time bearings – how close to the right pace was he going, etc. He thought he was around 5 minutes ahead of time and he had a significant group with him – I stayed roughly with them for the next hour but eventually as we hit Tarmac my body failed and I slowed letting them go past – I was going to be timed out. All this way, all this pain, all for nothing. 

 
‘Pain, time, effort, illness, sleeplessness and I will finish because I’m more than halfway there’ I told myself and then something happened that would change the course of my race and her name was Elaine.

Elaine. A very youthful forty-something (be rude to give an exact age) ultra running lady who was having a mentally challenging time. It’s fair to say, having lost the 11 hour pacer, she looked like her race was over. However, Elaine gave me the opportunity to focus on problems that weren’t my own and we chatted for a little while. Within a few moments I had warmed enormously to Elaine and we ground out the distance to CP3 where we both had support waiting for us. She had the awesome Gary, husband and supporter extraordinaire and I had the GingaNinja, UltraBaby and the Continental Trio.

 
I gulped down milkshake, said Adios to the support and threw on a waterproof after being hail stoned. Grabbing my running buddy, Elaine we set off. We’d agreed that we would aid one another for the remainder of the race, effectively we’d pace each other to the finish knowing that time was now against us.

She was calm, understated and brilliant and I was upbeat, frantic and woefully inadequate but it was a good mix of temperaments. It was when I found myself feeling leaden and she turned and said to me, ‘anyone’d think you’d been hit by a car!’ that I realised I was going to make it and in the best of company.  

We pulled apart the next section in good time and that was because (I hope) that we were inspiring one another to go that bit faster and that bit harder. Suddenly inclines and mud seemed a little less difficult and we covered a wide range of topics in conversations as the miles drifted away. I won’t say that the journey to CP4 was easy but it was a more balanced effort. It was all just coming together and the problems that had plagued me earlier in the day, while still there, seemed less significant. I hope the same can be said for my partner.

Tim. It was here that we met ‘Tim’. I know that lots of you will have met him, he was just a guy with a car, by a church, handing out goodies just when we needed them – he’d done the race the year before and we appreciated him taking the time to sit in the cold and wait for the exhausted runners to give them food and drink (and in our case a hug). I had lots of fizzy haribo. Yum. 

Once we had passed Tim we started to focus on the final jaunt to mile 39. It was the grind now but actually good humour was holding it all together and nothing highlights that as much as our enclounter with a group of youths …

The VCR Tape Gang. We passed by a group of youths on the road, nothing unusual about that you might say, however, they had been unfurling the contents of old VHS tapes and I couldn’t help but advise them that ‘VHS has had its day, it’s old technology’. This was greeted by a torrent of abuse suggesting that we hurry up and the like. Having had my fun with them and a bit of a laugh I concluded the discourse with the following statement ‘I’m related to Jimmy Saville you know!’ 

It raised a titter in the running ranks and our young friends promptly left to get on with it.

At CP4 there was just time for a weewee stop for one of us – I’d drained the lizard just beyond CP3 so used the opportunity to give a progress update to the GingaNinja and suggested that we were about 10km and at current pace we’d be done in about 80 minutes. CP4 also gave me an opportunity to chat to a first time ultra widow and her family, we had a few gentle laughs about being stuck in the cold and waiting around for runners that might never appear. Her partner was several miles behind us and as I left I wished her and her runner well knowing that he was rapidly running out of time.

  
   
We pushed on uphill and back through the mud, only stopping for an enforced ‘headtorch breakout’. Fully lit we pushed on, watching the map, watching the Suunto and most importantly, watching the clock. Onwards through to Bristol and we could finally see things we knew (well things I knew) and the Tarmac hills felt heavy under my feet – the pounds of mud that caked my Altra was now starting to become strewn across the city, I could taste the finish line.

The GingaNinja passed us in the car and waved us on – we were nearly there. Entering the final uphills, each step started to feel like a winning step and the night became illuminated as we crossed the Clifton Suspension Bridge – a truly magnificent sight.   

A little further and Elaine egged us onwards, I egged us onwards and we reached the summit of Ashton Gate and into the deer park. Boom!

There was no time for messing around – we had momentum and we hurled our bruised and battered bodies to the fore. Through the final gate and in the distance we could see the small group of people lining the way. We grasped each other’s hands and began our ‘fast’ finish – the GingaNinja and Gary (Elaine’s excellent other half) waiting to congratulate us. 

Over the line! I was delirious. 

I felt like dying, every pain that I’d held back simply coursed through my veins, I was suitably broken. But I’d made it and the Green Man Ultra was beaten, even if it was, in my case, a narrow points victory.  


The Route.
What can you say? It’s undulating, there’s a few steep bits, there’s mud (up to your eyeballs in my case) and there was some stunning scenery to admire. The Green Man is a pretty route – a shame about the amount of gates and stiles you need to get through but these are a very minor distraction to a great course. You should do this just for the course. 

Marshals/Volunteers/Support. As with all ultra races the support tends to be checkpoint based and this was no different and it was universally excellent. Everything from the casual ease of the registration through to the handing out of jam sandwiches, medals and certificates this was one slick operation. A mention must go to the people on the course too – Tim, with his unofficial checkpoint, the cowbellers with the pretzels and the family at the park with jelly beans – they all made me smile. There was also the genuine and heartfelt congratulations from the Bristolians as ultra runners invaded their city. This was a good old knees up. For me though I’d like to say a big thank you to Ian, the 11 hour Timelord who put up with my wittering about getting extra time for far too long. So thanks you everyone you made this a very friendly experience. 

Value for money? Always a bone of contention for me. Do you get your money’s worth? Let’s break it down; entry to the race with a stunning course to run, a bespoke medal, bespoke T-Shirt, included race photography,  certificate, food on the course, hot food afterwards, showers, good change and toilet facilities and all the usual gubbins! Yep this was a value for money ultra.

Elaine. If you know her, if you’ve met her, if you see her then always pass on my good wishes and thanks. She’s a tremendous runner with a great future in the sport and for me personally she was the perfect antidote to day I was having. I’ll always be incredibly grateful to her as her spirit was so incredibly strong. If you read this young lady – recover well and start your preparations for the next one soon!

Kit? I chose mostly the right kit and the altra LP2.0 despite being slip slide actually help up amazingly well and combined with my drymax socks kept my feet in good condition. The Ronhill shorts with the gel pockets also worked a treat as a secure location for my GoPro and extendable reach stick – so lots of steady footage shot of the race and me running it. The thing I got wrong was good and I’ll need to assess that for next time – the sweet and fruit options were fine but my savoury choices made me choke and that’s not what you want.

UltraBoyRuns? Don’t run an ultra on no training (chest infection), no sleep (naughty UltraBaby) or having just survived being hit by a car mere days earlier. I was foolish to think about starting but I wouldn’t have missed it. I finished bloodied, bruised and injured and in a rubbish time but eventually all that fades and what’s left is I ran the 45 miles.

Conclusions? The Green Man is fun, friendly, beautiful, intimate, tough and brilliant. It has something for everyone and I highly recommend you add this to your race calendars – it’s one I’d go back to. Don’t let the fact it’s a shorter distance ultra put you off, the mud makes this a challenge, the route is a challenge and the time of year is a challenge. Give this a go, you won’t regret it.

Name: The Green Man Ultra Organisers: Ultrarunning Ltd Location: Bristol Distance: 45 miles approximately Course: Muddy, undulating, runnable

 

  1. Crossing the finishing line of the TP100 with UltraBaby. I was in a bit of a mess as I crossed the line for the finish but I insisted that I do it carrying my daughter who seemed somewhat nonplussed by the whole thing but for me it was a finish I will never ever forget. I’ll also never forget the paramedics trying to take her off me in case I dropped her as I crossed the line – as if I would.
  2. The Halfway Point of the Saltmarsh 75. Sat in the pub at the overnight camp for Saltmarsh was an experience in friendship. I feel compelled to mention  the awesome Ian Brazier, Simon Oswald and co who provided the most enjoyable mid point company possible. What made this even more amusing viewing though was the departure of several pairs of trousers so the runners could sit in nothing more than their compression tights. I’m not sure I ever want to see that again 🙂
  3. Returning to racing at the Vigo Valentines 10. Having had more than 6 months off in the previous year I hoped I had finally recovered from injury. This race gave me so much confidence to go into the rest of 2015, I wasn’t fast on the day but I had such fun.
  4. Thayer, Emma, Emma, Kat, Jools, Rachel, Traviss, Joanna, Kate, Joe, Conrad, Ben, Ian, Ian, Sam, Gill, Clare, Rob … The list is near endless of awesome runners I’ve had the opportunity to meet this year, and with each and everyone I’ve had a particular experience you can’t properly explain or put into words that would do it justice. The absolute highlight though was finally meeting EmLa and discovering she’s as awesome in person as she is on Twitter. If 2016 offers the same level of new/old and interesting people I’ll be a happy bunny.
  5. Medway 10km sprint finish. 200metres to go and I kicked a bit early – I mean who was I racing? Just me surely? Turns out the lanky streak of piss next to me didn’t want to be beaten by a short, middle-aged man wearing a buff and so he kicked with me! Ha! I kept pace with him until about the 90metres from home point and then I shouted over the fury of those final metres ‘You’ve got me kid, well done’. The problem was my legs were no longer attached to my mouth and I broke for a second kick and as I raced to the finish my opponent drifted into the distance behind me. Turns out in the timing chip scenario I’d beaten him by nearly a minute but there’s nothing more fun than a sprint to the finish line – especially on a track. Awesome.
  6. Jo! The TP100 had so many highlights but one of my absolute favourites is the one I keep retelling to other runners because it amuses me. I’d just finished having a very long piss when a young lady came across me. When she asked if we could run together for a bit I was perfectly happy to do so however, it was the ‘you don’t look like the type who’d rape me’ that ensured I would never forget Jo. She was some of the best (and strangest) company I’ve ever had on a race but it was a delight to come across her again at the Saltmarsh 75. Thanks Jo.
  7. A family race. The GingaNinja and I don’t often do the same events anymore, she’ll sometimes roll up to a 10km and I’ll sometimes do a swim but when the Westminster Mile reared its head I asked if she fancied it (and we invited her mum, who accepted). The four of us rolled up to the start line – UltraBaby strapped to my front and 8minutes 39seconds later my daughter finished as about the 200th fastest female – not bad given her feet didn’t touch the ground!
  8. New job, new boss, some understanding. Most people think you’re bonkers when you tell them you run hundred mile races or run through the night across mountains or spend hundreds of your hard earned pounds on Lycra but my boss (The Big G) is a bit of an extreme triathlete and therefore understands why I do what I do and I’ve spent most of the last working year chatting about upcoming races, looking up new races and discussing strategies. It’s possible I wouldn’t be running the Isle of Skye ultra in May if it hadn’t been for our conversations about it!
  9. Birthday. I’m a notorious grumpy bugger at my birthday but the GingaNinja made it much better this year by ordering, from France, without my knowing, the difficult to acquire at the time, Altra Lone Peak 2.5 (what a shoe!)
  10. Goodbye Verucca. I’d had this bloody thing for ages and it kept opening up incredibly painfully on long distance trails (especially the TP100). I’m useless with medical stuff so the GingaNinja dealt with it every night for nearly three months and managed to kill it off just prior to the SainteLyon. The reward was that my feet held up so much better on the trails because of her tenacity in dealing with a  terrible patient.

So fellow runners what about your highlights of the year?

*Please note that the above list is in no particular order

  
‘You’re still going?’ my grandmother cried, exasperated by how far I’ll go to run, ‘but those Muslims are killing people in France!’

My grandmother I should point out is an old style racist, the kind that makes snide comments about race, colour, gender, sexuality or appearance. She doesn’t appreciate that the attacks in France were NOT committed by Muslims, Catholics, Christians, Jews or any other religion – they were committed by people who hate and more importantly people who hate everyone and everything.

Obviously my grandmother is concerned that I’m off to race the Saintelyon in a few weeks time. She’s worried that a big event with runners might be a perfect target for a terrorist attack and in this she’s got a valid point – I mean let’s not forget how vulnerable runners are – Boston was not so long ago.

But at no point after the horrific events of last week did I think ‘maybe I shouldn’t go to France’. Infact I think it’s vital that I go to Saintelyon, it’s vital we all go and when asked on Twitter if I’d been put off I suspect my answer was already known.

I remember growing up with the IRA bombing cities and towns not far from me but there was never any doubt that life just went on, we got on with things and while I realise that this modern warfare is a whole new level of danger we must ensure we stand strong and simply ‘get on with the life we were leading’. Disruption, difficulty, suspicion, hate, panic these are the things that the attacks are meant to create – so why play into their hands? I’d rather be tolerant, supportive and tenacious.

So I am going to continue to be.

I’m not changing my avatars on social media instead I’m going to do what I always do and that’s be me. I’m going to go to France and enjoy the Saintelyon, I’m going to continue as a citizen of the world and embrace its diversity and I’m going to hope that there aren’t too many people like my grandmother out there because we all need to pull together whatever your background

Vive le France

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One of the dangers of being part of any running community is that you get dragged into things that later down the line you think ’what the hell was I doing? Was I drunk?’ The other very dangerous thing is that Facebook, as evil as it is, does have it uses.

Steve (our organiser) perhaps was a victim of both these things as he set up the wonderful group ‘2015 miles in 2015’. It’s similar to the fun some of us had doing the ‘2013 in 2013’ but this wasn’t organised, this was just random individuals posting their achievements on social media.

Steve’s excellent approach to bringing people together in 2015 is more organised, more social and more inclusive. The interactive spreadsheet that we all log our numbers on means that we have numbers to reach both in terms of staying on target for 2015 miles but also targets of catching other users on the list.

However, it’s the community aspect that’s really positive – we are all in this together, trying as hard as we can to beat the cold mornings and wet evenings. There is a lot of drawing on each other’s experiences without the stupidity that seems to be pervasive in other Facebook running groups. It’s got the members fired up and one look at the spreadsheet is proof enough that we are all going at this hard.

I’m sure there will be drop off – injury, disinterest and fatigue do take their toll and 2015 miles is a long way but I believe we’ll see most of those who started this journey reach the finish line (hopefully myself included).

Now as January and therefore the end of the first month has come around I figured it was worth adding just how far I’ve gotten.

Total: 268.36km
Cycling: 138.19km
Running: 130.17km
Days Effort: 19

At current rates I should just about scrape in for the 2015 distance but I’m aware that I slacken off a little in July and August to avoid the heat and I’ll be mindful of preparing myself for the CCC and the various other ultras I’ve got in the early part of the year. One of the things I really want to avoid is causing myself further injury, leaving me frustrated for the second half of the year but I’m hoping that being part of this group will help maintain my momentum and yet keep me grounded if I look like I’m about to go training bonkers!

So after my first month I’m really pleased and I look forward to a year of adventuring in and across mountains, in lakes, streams and mud, glorious mud but most of all I’m looking forward to sharing my adventures with you and vice versa. Thanks guys.

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Whilst this post seems like it’s going to be a never ending bag of ‘isn’t my running life shit’ I hope the ending for those of you who get there is worth it. This post was written in three sections over the last 3 weeks. And apologies for the moaning tone.

Day 1 of writing this post
My physiotherapist has been very generous and kind, she did all she could to keep me on the road until the end of my 2014 race calendar but with each medal won she gave me a gentle reminder that these races and in fact each run was making things worse. She advised me that while I was continuing to do long distance running I wasn’t giving my body the required amount of rest and therefore wouldn’t be injury free. Now though I’ve reached the end of my 2014 race calendar and she’s not being quite so nice.

Sat on her table at 1.30pm on a Sunday afternoon is quite a scary prospect. She listened as I explained about the explosion of pain at my last ultra, she listened as I highlighted the various points that have been troubling me and she grimaced as I went through the length of time I have been struggling with these things.

She told me the following; I’m not allowed to run for several months and that if I don’t want to be in pain for the rest of my days I need to sort myself out. She spoke to me in just the way I needed and deserved – like I’ve been being a child. She did say if I work hard I’ll get back to running – IF I work hard at it.

She’s known, as well I have, that this day was always coming and for me it wasn’t until she got really stern that I finally just went ‘ok’ and aort of just broke down. That was a week or so back and it’s been just over 10 days or so since I was halted in agony at my last ultra and I’ve been working like there’s no tomorrow to try and fix this but I’m not even sure why.

I feel more like giving up than making a comeback.

Stretching, core, strengthening, core, more core, more fecking core, did I mention fecking core? I’m told I’m not allowed to pass the point of pain because I’m pretty ruined and pain is bad in this instance. The only pain I’m allowed is when I jam either a tennis ball or the GingaNinjas elbow in my glutes (then I cry). I’m doing what I’m told but more because I’m being told and not because I want to. Have I lost my mojo or is this just how you feel post DNF?

Day 2 of writing this post
My motivation is zero to do other exercise and that’s now perhaps the worst thing, I can’t be bothered. I look at my epic amount of running kit I own and see nothing but failure, perhaps what I see is a great big eBay sale but ultimately I’m scared I’ll never run again, scared I’ll never run a Centurion hundred mile race, mostly I’m scared that I’m a failure. A chap I know (reportedly, I didn’t hear it directly) took great pleasure in announcing my failure at my last race, that hurt a lot because my aim has never been to say ‘I’m better than you’ it’s always been to say ‘look at what you can do too, let’s go’. So while my physiotherapist helps me put my body back together how do I put my head into the right space?

My partner has refused to let me cancel any of next years races, she says they are my targets and she’s insisting I enter the CCC when the ballot opens because she believes the lure of a big race will create in me the fight needed to break my lethargy. Maybe she’s right, maybe she isn’t. But right now I’m going through the motions to try and find some mojo, some anything if truth be told.

Day 3 of writing this post
18 months of stupidity have potentially ruined my favourite activity but last night as I lay down with UltraBaby in one arm and my iPad in the other watching Charley Boorman and Ewan McGregor heading through France in the excellent ‘Long Way Down’ I saw the mountain that originally inspired my love of ultra distances – the Mont Blanc – and although my desire to run that race has waned a little I felt all the desire to race to the top of it, through it, along it, around it. Even this morning as I feel the aching pain and sharpness running through my pelvis and right down into my foot I can hold on to that positive image of running once again up bitchingly steep elevations. As you can see I needed something and my glimmer of hope came from a most unexpected source at a most unexpected time and even if the end result is that I’ll never run properly again at least I’ll have tried which is a far cry from how I felt just a couple of weeks ago. Young Amy a wannabee ultra runner (SDW50 2015 entrant) told me only yesterday that time is a great healer – it seems she’s got a point.

On a final note I’ve been the recipient of some brilliant support. I’m not sure I appreciated it at the time as I was looking far too inward but I’m grateful and thankful for being a runner because we do support each other when things go wrong – so thank you.

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